Four Times Mary Asked for Catherine's Advice & One Time She Didn't
by FaerieBreath
Summary: Mary and Catherine have such chemistry and have been through so much that this piece just begged to be written. Title says it all, each chapter will be a standalone with updates coming as soon as my muse dictates them. Rating starting at K for safety, may change in later chapters.
1. Decisions of the Utmost Importance

Disclaimer: I neither own Reign, nor profit from this story.

#1

Mary was six years old and it was her first time being away from her mother and from Scotland for so long.

She had known that she was the Queen of Scotland for several years now, although she didn't fully know what that meant. She did know that her mother was once the Queen of Scotland and there were certain things that she did do and others that she did not.

She knew that Queens were prim and proper and that they didn't cry over such trivial things as being separated from one's mother or on young princes that wouldn't slow down when they were supposed to be playing together. However, she was only six and it had been a very long day…a very long week for that matter and she was tired of the travel, and of the badgering and of the should's and should nots…

She had only six days ago arrived in France and she did not feel like a Queen, she felt like a lost little girl who was not yet ready to make Queenly decisions.

Her ladies and her servants had tried to help her but they just could to possibly give her the answer she was looking for. She had tried to send them all away but they just kept coming back with more words, and more scolding, and more disapproving frowns…

"You need to choose your Majesty"

"It's almost time your Majesty"

"All of Court will be waiting for you your Majesty"

"We really must hurry your Majesty"

"It will not serve as a good impression to be so late for something in your honor your Majesty"

Your Majesty this, your Majesty that, your Majesty, your Majesty, your Majesty!

Her Majesty was about to crumble into a pile of tears if even once more she heard those hated words.

Finally the servants had dwindled down to just a few who were tidying up her room from the whirlwind that had just gone through it.

And then she heard it.

Three simple words that righted her world once again…

"Leave us now."

Not spoken harshly. Not spoken with venom, or worry, or haste.

Spoken like a mother, to a daughter, a six year old daughter who could care less that a crown already weighed too heavily on her little head except that she now felt that she could not possibly go on for fear of ruining everything.

Coming to sit beside her, Catherine de Medici, Queen of France, and for all intents and purposes her equal, took Mary's hands in her own and waited a moment before speaking.

"Well it seems that you've stared your career as Queen quite seriously and frightened all of your servants away." Mary looked up at the stately Queen to find not a frown, not a grimace, not a angry or harried scowl like all the rest, but a kind smile and inquisitive eyes.

Lip trembling and eyes filled with tears, Mary let our a sob as she buried her head in Catherine's bodice and wrapped her little arms around her waist. Catherine in response simply combed her hand through Mary's thick deep red tresses and spoke comforting words into her ear.

When she finally stopped bawling Mary picked up her head and looked at the other Queen worried that she had already ruined it. Instead all that came from the older woman's lips was a simple question. "What is the matter child?"

Taking a few deep breaths to try and compose herself Mary answered as clearly as she could, though her words were barely spoken above a whisper.

"It is my first ball and I can't decide what shoes I should wear."

Nodding her head Catherine answered,"Ahhh, I see. A most important decision for a Queen indeed. Well then we shall have to pick them out together, hmmmm?"

Confused at her calmly rational response Mary further inquired, "but I should already know these things? I am a visiting Queen and this ball is in my honor. How can I be a Queen if I cannot even pick out my own shoes?"

Smiling down at her Catherine picked up one of her tiny hands and gently moved a few locks of hair behind her shoulder with the other. "Because my dear, though you are a Queen, you are also young, and have plenty of time to learn more about such Queenly things. as picking out your own shoes for an important ball. For now why don't you just come with me and I can share with you…one Queen to another, what I might choose if I were in your place and you can decide if you agree."

Blinking up at the older Queen, Mary took a moment to digest what she had said and solemnly nodded.

Pausing for a moment, Catherine held up her finger to indicate her desire for Mary to wait just a little longer.

"There is just one more thing you should know Mary," she spoke firmly.

Waiting for either a reprimand or a lesson in Queenly behavior, Mary prepared herself for the worst and so she was quite surprised with the answer that came back.

"The first rule of being a Queen is that one must always smile."

Relief flooded Mary at her answer.

Somehow despite everything else seeming to go wrong the Queen did not seem upset in the least.

But before she could digest much more Catherine continued, "And you see, the best smiles always start in your toes, and work their way up to your heart. There they are filled with all the love you have for your people and the pride for your country so that by the time it reaches your lips and your eyes it sparkles as bright as the stars in the sky."

Catherine ended with such a warm smile on her own lips that Mary hugged her once more before placing her little hand in the soft hands of her now surrogate mother and rose to go finish dressing for the ball.

Perhaps being a Queen wouldn't be nearly so terrible after all.


	2. Decisions and Dresses and Dogs, Oh Dear!

Disclaimer: I neither own Reign, nor profit from this story.

#2

Mary had been in France now for what seemed like forever, though in reality it was only about six months. Since the first time the world seemed to end with her inability to pick out her shoes, Catherine had made time to help her pick out her clothes the day before any balls she had to attend.

Catherine was often too busy on the day of and so the day before generally provided more time for them to really spend looking through her wardrobe. Catherine may have not been her mother, but for the moment she was all the mother she had, and it was enough.

"What about this one Mary, you haven't worn it yet and it contrasts beautifully with you complexion."

Staring at the gown for a long moment, Mary walked over and took the fabric between her fingers, rubbing them gently across the surface of the crushed velvet.

"It was the last dress I wore before getting packed to leave Scotland. Mother had arranged a small gathering with what family we could reach on short notice so I would have fresh memories before leaving for France."

Bringing the fabric up to her nose, she inhaled deeply before continuing. "I asked for it not to be laundered so it would carry those memories just a bit farther."

Placing the dress on a nearby hook Catherine led her to the chaise and the two sat one next to the other.

"Are you feeling homesick Mary?"

"Yes, no…I love it here. You have made me feel at home here almost as much as I would back in Scotland, but I do wish I could see Mother."

Smiling as she recalled a memory, "Mother and I were debating before I left as to whether or not I should get a dog. She said that I should not get one because I was about to travel, and I said that I should so that I wouldn't be lonely on the trip."

"And would this dog have made you feel safe as well."

"Probably, although I have felt very safe both here and on the trip."

"Well then, perhaps we should get you a dog."

"What I would really like is for Francis to slow down enough so that I might catch up to him every once in a while."

As she said that her expression changed from thoughtful to pensive.

Smiling at the young Queen's comment Catherine tried to figure out how to approach this with her. "And why must my son slow down for you, it is not strictly proper for you to be playing games with him in which that much running is required anyway."

"Well how else am I to make him fall in love with me? We are to be married some day, surely this should be a consideration, but I can never catch him!"

"Oh Mary, falling in love is much too big of a worry to think about just now. You two aren't even big enough to sit in the thrones without the help of a stool!"

"Perhaps, but I was sent here both to be safe and to continue learning what it means to be a Queen…and that will involve marrying Francis. Boys can be so…so…"

"I believe difficult would be the word you are looking for my young Queen, and yes they can be…but you just leave my son to me and instead let that mind of your think abut things more befitting a Queen, such as dresses, and dinners, and deportment."

Mary opened her mouth to protest, but the Queen cut her off, "And if you would like, I can send for you to come and observe some of my meetings and teas so that you can further your learning and understanding of the role and duty of a Queen. Although as I understand you work very hard yourself at your own studies, especially in languages."

A smile blossoming on her face, Catherine continued, "In fact, next week I have a German envoy coming through for a short visit, perhaps you can have your tutors spend a little extra time in your studies of German and impress them in their own tongue."

Smiling at the thought, Mary reached up and hugged Catherine.

It may not have been very Queenlike, but Catherine was glad that the young girl did at times give herself permission to act her age…impulsively or otherwise.

Rising to finish their intended task, Catherine was pleased when Mary agreed to wear the aforementioned gown. To rely so heavily on memory or even promise was like grasping for the wind. A frequent visitor, but good for little else than moments of reflection or consideration.

-/-/-/-

A few weeks later Francis asked Mary to walk with him in the gardens.

Though the request and the walk itself seemed quite stilted, as if Francis were holding back on her behalf, it pleased her.

Then as they were about to make their way back into the Castle, a puppy came running up to greet them. A scrawny little thing, but full of life. Both the Queen and the Crowned Prince were enraptured by its energy and playfulness before Mary remembered her conversation with Catherine and looked up.

Scanning the immediate vicinity, at first the Queen was nowhere to be found.

Leaving the playful ball of fur to Francis she approached the attendant who had run up just a few minutes prior and inquired as to the origin of the animal.

"I was not told specifically Majesty, only that it is a royal gift sent for you."

Deciding now that it must have been Catherine, Mary thanked the attendant half heartedly as she looked up and scanned the windows of the Castle which might have a vantage point of the small spectacle.

She eventually found the Queen having tea with some of the Nobles wives on a balcony, seemingly engrossed in her intended task.

It would not have been strictly proper for Catherine to get Mary such a gift. It was a Scottish Deerhound, and known for its energetic pursuits in running and chasing. Certain that she was right, however, Mary continued to stare openly at Catherine who eventually glanced briefly at the scene and winked at Mary.

Smiling, Mary knew she should not have been so blatantly obvious in her gaze, and her Mother would have scolded her for staring. But as Catherine had said, she could not even sit in the throne without assistance, perhaps there was some wisdom to allowing herself to behave as a child every now and again.

And besides, soon she would be able to keep up with Francis at all times without having to worry about whether or not he would outrun her.

Her new friend would tale care of that instead.

Having overheard the conversation with the attendant just a few minutes before, Francis called out, "Mary what shall you call him?"

Pondering for a moment, she found herself uncertain.

Dogs were often named for their characteristics, or as related to their jobs. As she had only the first, and barely knew the pup she decided on something that she did know about him.

"Stirling, his name shall be Stirling, and he will be both of our companions for walking and for running."

"But you can never run as fast as I, Mary."

Smiling she simply replied, "I know."


	3. Deciding not to Mourn, but to Dance!

Disclaimer: I neither own Reign, nor profit from this story.

#3

Catherine had ridden all night just to be there on time.

Well, relatively speaking…

She was due to be there no later than dinner yesterday, but the day she was to leave, she had gotten held back by several last minute emergencies and then an overturned carriage. She gave up getting there even before night fall and just settled on getting there period.

The trip had taken several days to begin with, and each evening they had ridden until it was nearly dark as pitch, lighting several torches to continue as long as they could and then waking again at dawn to continue.

Catherine did not like being this late.

Feeling the carriage begin to slow Catherine roused herself to peek out the window. The sun was just coming up over the hills, the rays of sun reaching up and around the walls of her destination as they stretched forth in the sky.

Officially she was on her way for a good will visit to the border of Italy where a town had recently been devastated and was in need of assistance.

Technically that town also did not exist anymore.

Unofficially she was visiting Mary, who was also supposed to be traveling to another convent near the border to try and keep her visit and Mary's location a secret. It was Mary's birthday and in lieu of her mother, Catherine was making the trip so that she would at least be able to see someone she might consider family.

Catherine had managed to dissuade Marie from writing to Mary directly as she didn't want to upset the poor girl more. It had been just over a year since she had been moved to her current residence thanks to English threats at French Court, and as she understood Mary had just finally gotten settled in. Catherine herself understood such a feeling, and hoped to provide at least a small measure of comfort for the girl.

She also had developed quite the bond with young Queen in the year that Mary had stayed at the Castle.

In fact Catherine both worried for her and cared for her deeply, far more than their relationship normally would have dictated, though Catherine rarely put much stock in what she ought to be doing outside of her own convictions and motivations.

Perhaps it was Catherine's lack of present parentage as a child that softened her heart so, but whenever she saw a child in need as she had with Mary, she felt for the poor thing. This world could be cruel to children, this she knew all to well, and she had taken a liking to Mary in the short year or so that the girls had been directly in her care.

Taking a deep breath before exiting the carriage Catherine hoped that she might surprise the Mary before she awoke. Mornings and evening, if handled properly, could be the most magical times of the day. They left one open to the possibility of reality and fantasy melding in a most unusual manner.

Hopefully Catherine's visit would be unusually pleasant.

She was certain that the nuns had been taken very good care of her, but Catherine still worried. The girls had been dealt a most tumultuous deck, even at her young age and had now lived in three homes in the same amount of years. Catherine was exhausted just thinking about it.

Waving off the normal offers of hospitality, Catherine simply bid the nun at the door to take her straight to Mary's rooms. Nodding her head the woman picked up a candle lit near the entrance and entered the confines of the building with Catherine in tow.

Catherine was glad that she did not seem inclined to ask questions or make small talk. It had been a long journey and Catherine was anxious to finally be able to see the Scottish lass that had stolen her heart.

Never did she think she might find those words rattling around in her head, but there they were.

As the nun stopped outside of a room, Catherine looked at her for confirmation that this was where Mary was staying. The response was a simple nod. Catherine asked the woman to have breakfast delivered to the room when it was ready, to which she received a skeptical look, and hesitant answer.

"I'm sorry your Majesty, but we don't currently have anything prepared that would be up to your usual standard, perhaps…"

Catherine appreciated the gesture of concern but waved it off with a brush of her hand, "I did not come here to be fed like an honored guest. You may browse what the Castle packed for me if you wish, but whatever can be prepared at this time will be equally sufficient."

Turning immediately to open the door and let herself in quietly. It was early enough that Mary should still be asleep, but with children this young you never knew.

She closed the door and walked across the small room to the side of Mary's bed. Indeed the girls was still asleep, curled into bed with the dog she had been given not a year before by Catherine herself.

No longer a puppy the dog took up half of the bed, but for such a small girls it must have been a comfort to literally be ensconced by her chosen item of comfort.

Finding one of the few spots not occupied by either Mary or the canine Catherine sat down gently and observed her for a moment. Mary had written to her several times since she was removed form the Castle, telling of her adventures and new life. Though a Queen by birth, the simple life seemed to suit her.

What Catherine now observed assuaged at least some of her worries. Her sleep seemed unburdened and her skin had a healthy glow to it. She was however certain that Mary's hair would need some serious tending to when she woke up.

Not wanting the delivery of breakfast to be the catalyst for her waking Catherine began threading her fingers through the hair she could reach in an attempt to rouse her.

Slowly she began to regain consciousness and turned toward the hand that brought forth her wakeful state. Her return to full consciousness was slow and not immediate. As her brain reconnected with each part of her body Mary began to move around and reorient herself before her eyes popped open and she found the source of her rousing.

Rubbing her eyes and blinking a few times she seemed to be trying to reassure herself that she was actually seeing what her eyes seemed to be telling her.

"Queen Catherine?" she queried, still uncertain if she was seeing correctly.

"Yes Mary," the Queen answered smiling, "Happy birthday dear one."

Her smile began to grow, and then fall. "Then my Mother isn't coming is she?"

Catherine crumbled inside at the innocence that had indeed been stolen from this girl in the wake of understanding. "No dear one, I will have to suffice in lieu of your Mother this time as she was unable to make it all this way."

Nodding in understanding Mary fully turned in Catherine's direction and took hold of one of her hands. Running her fingers over the various gems and bands of Catherine's rings she only asked one question, "Well than what shall we do today?"

Catherine saw her try her best to put on a smile and decided that it might be better to get the fits and tears out now before the day had truly began. "Come hear dear child," she offered, drawing her still captured hand back to herself to encourage Mary into her embrace.

As Mary slowly began to move Catherine cradled her gently but firmly. She may not be able to wisk the girl's Mother here as she would have liked, but she could at least do her best to soften the blow.

Allowing Mary to cry into her skirts, Catherine prayed that one day she would eventually find peace.

Personal experience warned her otherwise, but was such a thing really too much to ask?

Mary's tears eventually stopped and she instead began tracing the brocade pattern that lined Catherine's dress. Eventually her hand stilled and Mary sat up to look at Catherine properly.

"And instead you came all this way for me?" She finally verbalized, fully grasping the reason for Catherine's visit.

Understanding was not always such a bad thing.

"Yes I did dear one." Catherine responded, smiling slowly. "I am not your Mother, and I never will be, but I can at least be here in her place. Is that alright?"

Nodding in response as she began to fully regain her composure, Mary looked the window, closed her eyes and took a deep breath before turning back to Catherine and saying with finality, "well then, shall I show you around or did you have something already planned?"

Drawing the young Queen close Catherine hugged the girl again, partly for her own comfort and partly out of pride.

Young she may be, but the Queen of Scotts was not one that would be overcome easily…a necessary quality for one who was sure to face a great deal of hardship in her life.

Then again, Catherine really needn't worry much…for her heritage was such that it seemed laughable that she might be any other way. The ways of the Highlands were not for the faint of heart, and their Queen was certainly built well to represent such a people.

She wondered if Mary had ever seen the men training with their dances enough that she might try and teach Catherine one or two of them.

Queens they may be, but in their world they both needed to be as strong and agile as the men and the Kings they served along. And besides Catherine always enjoys the thrill of being a bit rebellious…who were the men to say the Highland Dances were only suitable to be learned and danced by their own gender?

Who were they indeed.


	4. Decisions of the Heart

Disclaimer: I neither own Reign, nor profit from this story.

#4

True love. It was something that Mary had always dreamed of, that she had perhaps even longed for, and now here she was fully embraced in its comforting tumultuous grasp. Francis, her betrothed, her soulmate, the voice and self that spoke to her very heart.

She knew that she sounded like a tragic myth before the plot was fully revealed, but these last few days…

And she knew Catherine didn't approve.

She didn't know why, but she knew for certain that the Queen of France was dead set against her joining in marriage with her son. Based on recent events, quite literally.

She couldn't understand what could possibly be going through her once Mother-figure's head, only that it wasn't the fulfillment of the future that had been predestined since she was so young.

It couldn't possibly be something that she had done, could it?

No, this had all started from nearly the beginning of her arrival and she hadn't had time to do anything yet!

She wasn't sure if that was part of the reason that Francis had been pushing her away so incessantly. He certainly was keeping his eyes on some unspecified future that was far beyond her purview. Though the premise of his logic was not unreasonable, she also knew that she had to keep trying, had to keep chipping his logic until he finally succumbed.

There was always a possibility that she could have to marry another, though the that chance was diminished significantly in that she was in fact stuck in France. unless…

It used to be that she would go to Catherine in a situation like this. It used to be that she could.

Now she practically feared for her life from the very looks the woman gave her, Looks of scorn and distain every time she laid eyes on the older Queen's Son, or he laid eyes on her. Yes scorn indeed, but also something else.

What was it that the Nuns would say, that the root of most anger was fear. Whether fear of what was or fear of what was to come.

Catherine had known of and even to a degree fostered her affection for the young Prince before she had been sent away, and there had been nothing untoward in anything she's said or done since arriving. So if the Nuns were correct than it was something to come that she feared, but what?

Her country? Francis's impending connection to her crown? They were of no threat to France, to his own rule. She would even be living here in French Court for the foreseeable future unless she was recalled home for something particularly urgent.

Shaking her head to try and free herself from the thoughts that whirred, Mary decided that it was a matter to be decided on a different day.

Her Ladies had asked her to join them for a picnic and she fully intended to join them with a mind that was unburdened.

A rarity of late, but she was determined.

-/-/-/-

Catherine stood and stared out and through the view that her balcony provided. When she was young, before she and Henry had wed, she chose this room because of the breathtaking view it provided of the grounds. The lake to the right, the woods to the left, and the view of the sunrise was absolutely without rival.

Staring now thought her thoughts returned to the last few weeks.

She had been unkind to Mary. A girl she had once thought of as a daughter now threatened France, threatened her Son.

As much as it pained her to take the steps that she did it pained her more to think of what was to come if their union was allowed to go on as planned.

Watching the girl, who had just joined her Ladies out by the lake Catherine's heart broke just a little. The time at convent had done her good. She had grown up into a beautiful young woman, kind and gently, enthralled by the smallest and simplest things, with a desire to serve her people.

She lacked certain refinements to be sure, but that could be fixed easily with the right nurturing, the right training.

But what pained her the most was the distance Catherine had inevitably created between them as the entire focus of her efforts towards the young Queen were to push her away from Francis. Not just away but out of his life entirely.

It was true that the girl had been like a daughter, but Francis was her Son, her firstborn, and that bond could never be betrayed, not even at the cost of a life…or rather by this point several.

Watching Mary and her Ladies dance in the Courtyard almost made Catherine reconsider, but the stakes were too high.

Once Mary had entrusted her confidence in Catherine.

Once Mary had entrusted the smallest and greatest burdens of her heart and mind.

Once she had willingly curled up in Catherine's Arms to be comforted and rocked to sleep.

Once, but no more.

They were so far beyond that Catherine was sure that Mary would never trust her again.

In some ways that was good. As a ruler life was cruel, especially for a Monarch that could not handle such difficulties as Mary was sure to face.

As a Mentor and caregiver, whether the child realized it or not, she knew this was for the best. But it still hurt, and she still missed the sweet innocent girl and her sweet innocent trust in the Queen who was to be her Mother-in-Law.

But it would never be, Catherine would have to see to that, and to her dying breath and with all the power she could muster she would.

She would and it pained her.

Turning from the view she withdrew to other matters.

Contrary to popular belief she was not heartless, only accustomed to ignoring her heart when the need arose.

She could think of no greater need than this.


	5. Decisions Deciding, Decisions Decided

Disclaimer: I neither own Reign, nor profit from this story.

#5

She lay on her side, her body seemingly calm.

But looks were often deceiving.

She couldn't move, could barely breathe. Everything hurt, everything was wrong.

What was she supposed to do? How was she supposed to move on, to forget?

Could she, would she, what was she going to do?

Nothing was right, her whole world, her whole…

"Mary."

…everything, nothing, what would she, who could she…it was. All. Falling. Apart.

"Mary come back to me."

Swimming, drowning, spinning, "No," she whimpered.

"You are lost in your head again, come back to me. Mary you are safe, listen to my voice."

Catherine's slow soft cadence and gentle voice broke through her spinning thoughts.

Mary could feel the mattress dip on her right and she had to fight the urge to shy away and run. Catherine had been incredibly caring, incredibly protective of her since the night of the attack. If she showed any signs of discomfort Catherine would almost always back away immediately. Mary did not want that, she did not want to be alone so she tried instead to focus on her breathing.

Catherine had taught her that.

First when she was young and was angry, usually with Francis. Then after the attack Catherine had again reminded her of the calming effect of the technique. Even when everything else was beyond her control she could control her response by focusing on the very rhythm of her being.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

"Mary," Catherine again hedged. Mary could feel Catherine's hand hovering near her arm.

Mary nodded her head ever so slightly. Tense but acquiescent, just barely.

Catherine's touch was like a lifeline. She held onto it with everything she had, and everything she didn't have.

After a moment Catherine began running her thumb gently in an arc on Mary's arm and matched Mary's breaths. If Mary ever told anyone how affectionate and calming Catherine could be they would never believe her.

Reaching out to Catherine with her other hand she felt stronger as the older woman clasped her digits with care but strength. Catherine was not a weak woman, Catherine would not be, had not been toppled by her own version of this. Mary at least had only experienced a single incidence of her trauma…Catherine.

And yet it all felt too much.

Mary knew that she would never be Catherine, her strength was what fueled the legends of Kingdoms, in tale and in reality. But Mary was no Catherine.

"I can't do this."

"Yes you can Mary, you are strong."

"I can't even get out of bed, to be near more than you and my Ladies. And even then I can only just. How can I ever face the Court again?"

"Because you are strong, you are a ruler. Because you care more about your people than your own comfort, and because you may feel weak and defeated now, but just by asking these questions I know you aren't."

"But I…"

"You are doing just what you need to, to rest and heal. Your Ladies and Francis and myself are covering for you, you will return to your duties fully when you are ready."

Squeezing Mary's arm she continued, "You will likely have to return before you are fully healed, but to return now would potentially be much worse. Francis is looking for the men who did this. I am certain her will find them as he is a man possessed, but even if he doesn't…"

At this she placed her finger on the side of Mary's chin and tipped it slightly toward her. "Even if he were to never find them, you would still survive. I can tell you this with certainty because I survived."

With no less gentleness, but far more conviction she continued, "You are alive, they did not destroy you, they cannot destroy you, they do not have that power.

"How?"

"How do they not have that power?"

"No, how do I do this, survive this, to be there as before?"

"Well firstly Mary there are two things you must understand, must accept."

Mary turned over at her words so that she could meet Catherine's eyes without craning her neck.

"Number one is that you will never be the same again. You can't."

At Catherine's words tears welled in Mary's eyes, but her gaze remained steady.

"Events, experiences like this change us. Irrevocably and inconceivably. I still am taken back to my prison, my captors from time to time and each time I have to chose to fight it. To fight through the overwhelming sense that all is lost, that I am lost so that I can once again find solid ground and keep going."

Clasping both of Mary's hands now Catherine continued. "Secondly, the only answer I can truly give you with any certainty is that you must put one foot in front of the other. There is no magic or even potion that can cure this. There is not enough time in this world to help you forget. But you overcome it by taking a hold of it and not allowing it to harm you any further, to burden you any further. You must become its Master."

And I am here.

And Francis is here.

And your Ladies are here.

You will move past this, and you will have your revenge, and then it will start to fade…the feelings the intenseness of which you now find yourself in the midst.

And then one day it will simply be a memory. Sometimes very vivid, sometimes all encompassing. But a memory can only hurt you if you allow it, and I know that you are stronger than any collection of thoughts whether conscious or unconscious.

You have survived.

You will survive.

You are a survivor.

Mary struggled to sit up, despite Catherine's protests.

Once there she reached forward slowly, almost tentatively with both arms and under Catherine's own to incite herself in an embrace.

Catherine was more than happy to oblige.

The two sat there for what felt like hours. Once taking rest and comfort from the embrace, and the other more than happy to provide the requested comfort. There was little else she could do.

And for a moment Mary cold forget all the bad blood between them.

And for a moment all Catherine worried for was the girl wrapped in her arms.

And for a moment they both felt at peace.


	6. Deciding Alone

Disclaimer: I neither own Reign, nor profit from this story.

Epilogue

Well she had finally admitted to herself that she royally screwed up.

Why she ever thought that such an endeavor would fix anything was now beyond her, but there was nothing to be accomplished by bemoaning her choices.

Her ladies were of no help, They were sweet, and they were dear, and they had done nothing but support her, which she appreciated. But their insight had been limited at best to their own experiences. The closest experiences they had that even come near to what had put her into this tailspin was their time held captive by the Count and Lols'a experience retrieving her brother from that crooked businessman.

Her dear friends had been just that, her friends. They had helped to keep her secret and for that she was eternally grateful. Keeping up appearances was something she could not have done on her own. Catherine had been right to remind her of that early on.

People would talk but she, they, had to ensure that any talk stayed away from even the implication of what really happened. It could topple her as Queen and in the fragile state that Scotland was in…

And then there was Catherine.

Mary knew that if looks could kill she would long be dead.

Not that she really needed to, but after this whole affair she was not sure it was even possible to get back into Catherine's good graces.

Mary may not have needed the woman's permission or approval to do anything, but if she knew one thing it was that getting on Catherine's bad side was a terrible idea. In the past 6 months though she had been doing too much reacting and not nearly enough thinking, which had clearly been problematic on multiple levels.

She wasn't even sure that Catherine would see her except to mock and insult her. The woman certainly knew how to hold a grudge and Mary had hurt her Son deeply. It was a sin in Catherine's mind that she would never forgive, even if Francis himself ever did.

And yet it was her counsel that Mary would have otherwise gone to given any other scenario.

In any other cases, even when Mary had not made the best choices, Catherine had always been there for her. Sometimes grudgingly, often smug, and frequently belittling even if just to make a point. But no matter the situation Catherine had always been a wealth of insight and wisdom, the likes of which Mary had found in no other.

Catherine was everything that Mary should strive for as Queen. Well nearly everything. Perhaps a little lighter on the bloodshed, torture, and general maiming of subjects and affiliates, but in their roles the lines could so easily become blurred that in many ways Mary could not fault the older Queen for the decisions she has had to make. The fact that Catherine had held it together for so long was nearly a miracle. A miracle clothed in jewels and rich clothes that never went anywhere important without her ever imposing heels.

Mary thought the nuns could be scary when they wanted to, but they had nothing on Catherine de Medici and the entrances she made punctuated by her favored choice of footwear.

So if she couldn't actually go to the woman, than the question she should be asking herself is what would Catherine do?

A bit ironic considering Catherine herself had been on the opposite end of this dilemma for most of her marriage, likely one of the reasons she had been so venomous toward Mary about the whole issue. But Catherine always seemed to come up with the best and often the most creative solutions to any problem.

She supposed the former Queen must have had a fair amount of experience cleaning up Henry's messes. For all the bluster and strong arming that he presented at Court, he seemed nearly incapable of planning and executing anything without knocking over lamps and spilling wine…literally and metaphorically. His temper was nearly as legendary as hers but he was far less accustomed to and accomplished at controlling it.

Her continued confessions of loving Henry, even if only whispers in the night, still astonished Mary. But she knew all too well how hard it was to turn the heart even for the sake of what was right or of duty.

As proud and hardened as Catherine always appeared regarding Henry's mistresses, Mary knew too well that the woman was not immune to his betrayals. Though Mary never flouted her affair, she knew that it hurt Catherine nearly as deeply as Henry's indiscretions. The situations paralleled each other far too closely for there to be any other conclusion.

Pulling out of her current train of thought she returned to the problem at hand, how to approach Francis about a reconciliation…at least of a sorts.

The way Mary saw it she could either return to Francis and grovel for his forgiveness, or she could bluff her way through like Catherine seemed to a majority of the time. Thought she was fairly certain that Catherine would almost certainly despise her for for the second.

Knowing Francis he would not bat an eye at either choice. The first because of his sweet and gentle spirit and the second because of how accustomed he had become to his Mother's constant manipulations.

She supposed the question then was to which could she hold true, to adhere herself and never look back? To which could she stand sure, unwaveringly strong and firm.

To which indeed.


End file.
